Richard's jaunt

Monday, January 31, 2005

Panama City

Started off in the Caribbean town of Bocas del Toro. Once was a top backpacker hideaway, now US property developers are pouring in turning it into a tourist destination. The heavy rain had made the waters turbid rather than turquoise. Did not hang around and caught the bus South, through jungle and cloud forest. Would make a great road for motorcycling, smooth curving bends, dramatic scenery with hardly another vehicle.

Got to the hostel in David and got immediately invited to join a group going to a festival in Boquete, an hours journey into the hills. It's a small village surrounded by volcanoes, jungle and coffee plantations. Thousands of local people from all over the mountains are partying, fairground rides, street food, stalls, open air discos and bars. Went into the first bar 12p a beer! party on, needless to say i got home at about 4am. Considering we were the only white faces in town everybody was really cool and we had no hassle.

Panama was the first really modern city I have come across since leaving the states some three months ago. High rises, supermarkets (which was a real novelty) and 24 hour facilities, though parts of it are pretty shady in general it felt safe to have some fun. I hooked up with some mad Swedish guys from Boquete and things got very very.

Its 4am, watching a bored naked girl shuffle across the stage, vacant brown eyes scan the crowd. The television at the bar is unintentionally reflecting in the stage mirrors, its English football, Chelsea are winning, wisps of smoke soften the edges, as does the warm imported beer. There is a Swedish girl from the hostel on my shoulder trying to make conversation. My mind is elsewhere. I have been in town 9 hours and I am already this deep in it. Sigh. End the night at an even sleazier joint, off duty taxi drivers and night people.
Just before day break we head home and enjoy the cool air and the quite morning sounds of the city as we chill together on the top floor balcony. Interrupted by a spitting competition to see who could reach the parked cars below.

The days are warm and balmy, clear skies and pretty easy going. The following evening another party starts and goes something like this.
>R lets go dancing
Its 2am!
>Non-plussed, big eyes
Okay, where?, nowhere is open, Im not going to last nights dives.
>Lonely Planet?
Five clubs and several taxis later 12 of us rejoin having split up during the evening, but all end up independently at the last club still open, to much surprise and big hugs. The only european faces in the place and it is pumping, 2 for 1 drinks, salsa, sweaty, jammed dance floor, swaying hips and good rhythm's. No idea where we are but its the best antidote for the traveler blues.

Back on the balcony. Coming down as the sun comes up. Rum with my coffee, jam on my toast. Best go to bed its 8:30.

There is no respite, the Swedes segway into the Dutch without missing a beat. My Aussie room mate just smiles and shakes his head every time he sees me.

Much I cant remember, but this goes on for four nights. I did get to see some of the city in daylight. The old town was worth the trip, narrow streets, wrought iron balconies, big old wooden doors, intricate plaster moldings, its dirty, crumbling, trees and vines grow down the walls. Music drifts out of the windows, people are hanging out of the balconies and sleeping it off in the street.

This is the Latin quarter. It is slightly dangerous but really cool. The other side of the bay are the skyscrapers, but this place has style. My enthusiasm gets the better of me and the police usher me away from the darker side of town. With good reason, the dock side is seriously sketchy. Guys are not make any effort to hide that they checking if Im worth robbing. I end up walking fast my nostrils filled with the stench of the fish market, past stalls of herbal medicines, piles of rope, people playing dominos on the street, rotten vegetables and the deafening noise of endless car horns.

Saw the Panama canal. Having traveled the length of a continent and this is the logical end point I stare at something which is no different to the ship canal back at home in Manchester, whoopie.

I split with the Dutch girls and go back north for some rest. I head back up into the hills to Boquete, so I can do some hiking and put behind me the madness of the city.

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